Cigarette Kisses
by Zephyroh
Summary: He was like smoking. You tasted him on your lips, he burned your lungs, he got you high and left you wanting more, even though you knew he was not good for you.


**Author's note: **Big thanks to Linn (tumbe user assmonroe) for being my beta :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own OUAT or its character.

**Cigarette Kisses**

You used to smoke when you were young. The thing with smoking is, you perfectly know it's wrong, you know the risks, and yet you do it anyway. The first few times, you choked on the smoke, feeling like you were going to suffocate and then... then you got used to it. You take a drag, let it fill your lungs, it gets you high, and you end up with a sour taste in your mouth and a vague feeling of guilt. But the more you do it, the less guilty you feel, and the more of an addict you become. You end up craving it.

He was like smoking. You tasted him on your lips, he burned your lungs, he got you high and left you wanting more, even though you knew he was not good for you. But just like when you were sixteen, hiding behind the bleachers of your school, smoking during your class breaks, knowing that the stench would stick to your clothes and you were going to endure the reprouving looks of your friends and foster parents, you can't help but reaching for him again and again. The only difference is that you got so much better at hiding it.

* * *

The first time it happens, you surprise yourself. You never thought it would happen until it did.

It was a Friday evening, you are staying late to finish some paperwork.

Since the town got back to normal when you returned from the Enchanted Forest, things quited down and the small town life settled in again, and suddenly the job of sheriff lost a bit of its appeal. Now you have time to do... nothing. You pratice throwing darts, thinking of Graham everytime you do it. Ruby comes by every once in a while bringing you donuts – and you can see the laughter behind her eyes because she thinks she's so funny – and surprisingly, Belle volunteered to help you. She said there wasn't much to do at the library and she wanted to participate in the town life. Also, you know she's trying to get some time apart from Mr. Gold so it's good for her and besides it's not like you mind the help.

Except for tonight because you had the stupid idea of letting her go early, thinking there wasn't much to do anyway. _''Don't worry, I got the paperwork covered'',_ you hear yourself say. What an idiot you are. Turns out, Belle is so good at what she does, she makes it look easy. But boy, it's not. And that's why you are still here, in the middle of the night, hunched over your desk, filling reports after reports. For a moment, you feel like you're a teenager again and studying for an exam you know you're going to fail. You made sure to call Regina, asking her to pick up Henry and the sound of her voice – trying so hard to control her happiness – made you smile. You're glad you also managed to work things out with her.

You are battleing with your eyelids, your back aches and you are in the middle of deciding whether you should close your eyes for a bit or go take an other cup of coffee when you notice him. You hear his footsteps first. It has the effect for waking you up completely, and you bolt out of your seat, reaching unconsciously for your gun. You carefully step out of your office, holding your gun firmly in your hands, pointing it directly at the silhouette. You reckognize him right away – he isn't exactly easy to forget. The gun doesn't seem to faze him. He merely put his hands up with a rueful look on his face. He looks better than the last time you saw him. Less tired, less agitated. Less... insane.

''I just came here to apologize.'', he says slowly. You don't move a muscle. ''I-I am very sorry about what I did to you and your m- and Mary Margaret. I know it's just words and you don't have to believe them, but I wanted to say them anyway. I needed to.''

You lower you gun. He is saying the truth, you can _tell_. You can see him release a small sigh of relief. He puts his hands behind his back and starts moving slowly in the station, keeping his eyes locked onto yours. You can't help but stiffen. You're not really afraid, but you don't feel comfortable. He keeps moving until he faces you, close enough so that you have to look up to meet his eyes. He clears out his throat.

''So, about magic and the Saviour thing, humm... I told you so?''. You know that he is trying to lighten the mood – quite awkwardly, but still. You know it is meant as a joke because of the ghost of a smile dancing on his lips. And it happens before you can even process it yourself; you feel your fist making contact with his cheek. It's not your first punch and certainly won't be the last, therefore it doesn't hurt. Next thing you know, he has a knee on the floor, he's groaning in pain and holding his face. He gets up and faces you again and surprises you by letting out an amused chuckle.

''I deserved that, I suppose.''

You want to hit him again and wipe that smirk off his face. And somehow – you don't even understand it yourself – when you start moving, instead of your hand, your lips are the ones crashing on his own. You end up pushing him on the bed of the station's cell; you had your handcuffs with you and you tie his wrists to the metal bar at the head of the bed. He doesn't protest, fight back or even seem bothered by it. You let yourself get lost in his scent and on his skin. It's not sweet and loving. It's rough and animalistic. It's a need you have to satiate. It makes your heart race, your lungs burn, your head spin. It gets you high and you moan his name when you reach your climax.

And it's only after, atfer you untied him, after he left – not before he made sure you were okay – after you had time to process what happened, it's only then that the guilt creeps on you.

You try to forget about it. The more you try, the more vivid the memory gets. Your body won't let you forget and you regularly wake up in the middle on the night, covered in sweat with his name caught in your throat and a craving in your guts.

* * *

The second time it happens, it's wrong on so many levels and you know it. It's at Henry's school, you went there with Regina to meet with Henry's teachers. Among the crowd of parents, you think you see him in his always so elegant black coat and scarf, holding a little girl's hand. You tell yourself you hallucinated it, that your mind is playing dirty games with you again. You attend to the parent-teacher conference, but you find yourself bored to death. Thank God Regina is here because you can't for the life of yours get yourself to focus on the monotonous voice of Henry's english teacher, but you know she hangs to his every words.

During a short break, while you are all waiting for the next teacher to come in, you excuse yourself to Regina, saying you have to make an important call, sheriff's business, and you'll be back soon. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow and you know you didn't fool her. She doesn't say anything though and you're grateful for that.

As you walk down the hallway, you see him leaning against the wall. For a split of a second, you feel like a teenager again, skipping class to meet with your boyfriend. You chase that ridiculous idea out of your head.

This time, you know exactly what is happening and you do nothing to stop it. You end up in the janitor's closet, clutching to the fabric of his coat, whimpering helplessly against his neck. You're against the wall and it's nowhere near comfortable, each thrust makes your back hit the cold stone. Your right hand is gripping a metallic shelf, your left alternates between clinging to his clothes and pulling on his hair. His head is constantly on your neck, licking, biting and sucking, and it only takes you a few minutes to come undone in his arms.

Neither of you mutter a word. You see him look at your neck and slightly cringe. He then takes off his scarf and you can't help but stare at his scar. He carefully places the soft silk around your neck, adjusting it, tugging it under your leather jacket.

When you get back to the classroom, trying your best to act natural, Regina doesn't notice the appearance of the material around your neck. Or if she did, she didn't bat an eyelid.

This time, you can't ignore or pretend it didn't happen. You have marks on your skin to prove it, and a piece of fabric wearing his scent that reminds you of him. It takes less than a week for the marks to disappear, but you still find a pretext to wear the scarf. It's February and you're in Maine, no one seems to notice.

* * *

The third time it happens, you can no longer pretend it's an accident. You can no longer put the blame on your impulses because you know you are willingly caving into your growing addiction, you're craving him.

It happens at Granny's dinner while celebrating Ruby's birthday – you can't decide whether you're more ashamed of this time or the time at Henry's school. The place is crowded, everyone is chatting happily, buzzing with energy. You are at a booth eating cake with Mary Margaret and David. Henry is playing outside with other kids under the watchful eyes of Regina and Kathryn.

You spot him in the corner of your eye. This time you don't doubt, you know it's him and a wave of desire sweeps through your body and stettles in your lower stomach. Your heart's pace quickens, your hands are shaking lightly in anticipation. You need your fix.

No one notices that you're gone and it's better that way. He is sitting in a corner and you know his eyes are on you. Your eyes lock onto his for half a second before you turn away and disappear in the hallway. You head straight for the bathroom and you don't even have to wait before the door opens again behind you. You hear the lock click. You turn to face him and his lips are immediatly on yours . You drag him in a stall.

You should feel guilty, you think. It's your friend's birthday, you should be talking with your parents. You should spend more time playing with Henry. You should socialize and make more friends. You should work on getting used to the small town life. But you can't bring yourself to. Not when his hands are caressing your thighs. Not when his mouth is bringing you over the edge. Not when you have his scarf between your teeth as you're trying to muffle your moans. Not when he is panting your name over and over, his forehead covered in drops of sweat and he's staring into your soul as your orgasm hits you.

This time, it takes you more than a couple minutes to get down from your high. You both stay still while catching your breaths. His head is against the stall's door and yours is buried in his neck. And for the first time, even though your brain tells you you should, you don't feel guilt. You feel good as his pulse beats against your cheek. His chest rises up and down slowly against you, and you just feel good. But eventually, you have to move. He lets you go first and waits ten minutes before re-appearing into the diner. You see a little girl running into his arms and his face lights up like you've never seen before. You feel a smile growing in your lips before you can stop it.

And then, at your grand surprise, Henry comes to him and greets him with a grin on his face. You see him say goodbye to Grace and Jefferson. It warms your heart and you can't explain why.

* * *

It happens again and again. You don't feel guilty anymore. You don't care. You just need him. You don't say a word to your family and friends. You considered telling Ruby once, you know she wouldn't judge you, but you couldn't bring yourself to say the words out loud. He is your dirty little secret.

It happens at the library – you couldn't look Belle in the eyes for a week after that – it happens at the theater, when you accompanied Henry with his school (the film was boring anyway) and he was there with Grace, it happens against a wall, next to the dumpster of the Rabbit Hole – and the irony of the situation doesn't escape you.

But soon, you notice it's not enough anymore. It doesn't get you as high as before. You are craving for more, more than quickies in public places, more than just physical pleasure, and it scares you. You start acting weird, you know it, and this time people take notice. You start avoiding him. When your eyes meet at the bar – Friday night is girl's night, Ruby decided and she left you no choice – you avert yours. He doesn't try to make a move, he seems a little confused. You slightly shake your head and he gets the hint. When you search for him in the crowd a few minutes later, you can't spot him.

It lasts for a month before you crack. During that month, he never tried to talk to you. You don't know whether you wanted him to or not. One night, you spilled your guts to Regina, of all people. You had too much to drink and you blame Ruby's drinking games for that. Regina – designated driver for the night – offered to take you home but you said you didn't want to wake up Henry or your parents (the words still feel bizarre in your mouth) in your drunken state, nor did you want him to see you hungover the morning after. Regina understood and took you to her place. She said she had enough guest rooms for you to stay for the night.

You were lying, more sprawled than lying actually, on her oh so comfortable couch – you may have mumbled _''God bless rich people''_ – and you felt so relaxed, the words came out of your mouth without a conscious effort. Regina frowned, laughed nervously, raised her infamous eyebrow and laughed some more. But she didn't judge. And then she surprised you again with her words.

''Don't be an idiot Emma. Sort your shit out with him, let him make amends to you and Mary Margaret. This-This is my fault. I did this to him. To all of you. He deserves a second chance. And you deserve to be happy.''

You let her words torture you for one more week until one night, you snap out of your numbed state and drive to his house. It's as imposing and magnificent as you remembered. As you knock on the door, you seriously consider turning around and running away. The door opens before you can. He looks surprised to see you. You don't even wait for him to invite you in to enter the house. Your eyes wander on the living room and stop for a second on the piano. A dirty thought crosses you mind and you push it away. You're not here for that – and you'll have time for that later if it goes well anyway.

During the ten minutes drive to get here, you've considered a thousand ways to start the conversation and now that you're facing him again, your mind is blank. You nervously rock back and forth on your heels before blurting out,''Where's Grace?''. You can see a spark light up in his eyes at the mention of her name. But when he answers, there's a hint of sadness in his voice.

''She's with her _other parents _for the night.'' You can feel that he struggles to say those words. Your eyebrows fly up. You didn't expect this and he notices. ''They raised her for 28 years. She shared a life with them. They have the right to see her as well. I can't deny her that.''

You understand, actually. You are basically in the same situation with Regina, so you definitely know what he's going through. An awkward silence settles in again and the atmosphere is heavy. Before your brain can come up with anything to say, you hear him ask,

''Can I offer you some tea, maybe?''. That bastard. He has the same amused look and smug smirk he had a few months ago at the sheriff's station. But this time, you can feel yourself smiling too. You know it's his strange way of apologizing again, and this time you accept it.

''No.'' You deadpan. He sobers, nods and look down. You try keep yourself from smiling even more.

''But you can buy me dinner Saturday evening, at 8.'' No more games, no more sneaking around. You barely wait up for his reaction – you quickly see his head snap up, so fast you're a bit worried for his sake – and you walk out of the house, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

A week later, when he kisses you again, it doesn't feel like you're suffocating anymore. On the contrary, you've never breathed so easily before.


End file.
